


Ascendancy

by RubyIntyale



Category: Whitechapel (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-28
Updated: 2012-10-28
Packaged: 2017-11-17 05:22:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/548054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RubyIntyale/pseuds/RubyIntyale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emerson Kent gets tired of waiting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ascendancy

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a prompt on the kinkmeme, and the fact that I have found a total lack of toppy!Kent, which displeases me.  
> First published on my Livejournal on 06/06/2012.

“Emerson, please!” Joe Chandler flicked away the hand that had been creeping towards his crotch with the corner of a manilla folder.

 

Kent slumped back against the sofa, scowling. He crossed his arms. Uncrossed them again. Sighed. Joe took no notice and carried on reading the case report. Kent made a “hmmph” sort of a noise. Joe's eyes didn't leave the page.

 

“It's been two months,” Kent whined eventually, “two effing months.”

 

Chandler looked towards the ceiling and shook his head. “I told you when we started this, Em. I'm just not that interested in sex, especially when I've got more important things to be thinking about.”

 

“You weren't 'not that interested' in the beginning though, were you?” Kent sulked, picking at the loose stitching on the bottom of his grey t shirt. Joe's comment about sex not being important had hurt him more than he liked to admit.

 

Chandler put the folder down on the coffee table and turned towards his lover. “Are you really going to be like this every time we have a bit of a dry spell? You're being immature and aggravating.”

 

“Two months is not 'a bit of a dry spell,'” Kent stood up from the sofa, hurt and anger colouring his cheeks. “Night, Joe. It's past my bedtime anyway,” he stalked out of the room without a backward glance.

 

The following morning, Kent threw his bag under his desk and sat down heavily, frowning at nothing in particular.

 

“Oooh, dearie me,” Riley piped up from his left, “what's up with you?”

 

“Joe's gone off me,” Kent pulled his pen out of his pocket and slammed it onto the desk, cracking the cheap plastic barrel.

 

“Erm, what?” Mansell turned away from his computer and stared at Kent, his head cocked to one side like a curious Labrador.

 

“Oh fuck off, Mansell. As if you haven't known from the start,” Kent wasn't in the mood today. Not at all.

 

Mansell raised his hands in a placating manner and turned back to his desk.

 

Kent folded his arms on the desk and rested his head on them. “It's been two sodding months, Riley,” he said to the freshly polished wood, “I am actually going insane.”

 

Riley wheeled her chair over to Kent and rubbed his shoulder. “I'm sure he hasn't gone off you,” she said in a soft, comforting voice, “we're really swamped at the moment, and you know how he is. He lets it get to him too much.”

 

Kent sighed, but didn't look up. “He wasn't like this before,” he mumbled, feeling his eyes start to sting. Don't cry. Do not fucking cry over this you idiot. He blinked a few times and took his head off the desk.

 

Riley was smiling sadly at him. “Maybe you just need a change of routine or something,” she lowered her voice so that Mansell couldn't hear, “I mean, who normally...you know...instigates it?”

 

Kent felt his face getting warm, “He does.”

 

“Well then, maybe you need to stop waiting for him to make a move and make one yourself.”

 

“I've tried that,” Kent looked around the office, embarrassed. “It doesn't work.”

 

“Maybe you need to be a bit more forceful.”

 

Chandler chose that moment to come back from the toilets. Kent could smell a mixture of Tiger Balm and expensive aftershave as the DI swept past his desk without looking at him. Riley winked encouragingly at Kent and wheeled back to her own side of the room.

 

Kent found it incredibly hard to concentrate for the rest of the day. Riley's words kept swimming around in his head like those giant fish Miles was so fond of. Every time he pictured himself being 'a bit more forceful,' he blushed to the tips of his ears and had to rearrange himself discreetly under the desk. Could he really do it? Would Joe let him do it? More to the point, would Joe want him to do it? The man was so uptight it was untrue, and he had an almost overwhelming need to be in control of any given situation. Normally, Kent totally got off on being dominated. He found it freeing and exciting, giving up all that control to someone else. He wanted Joe to feel like that too. For Christ's sake, he had to get rid of some of this tension before he damn well broke down and had a wank at work (a course of action he had been seriously contemplating for the last couple of weeks). Tonight, he decided. I'm going to do it tonight.

 

Kent had moved into Chandler's flat about a month after they became a couple. Truth be told, the whole thing had been done in a bit of a rush. Kent was still convinced that the main reason Chandler had asked him to move in was because he couldn't stand Kent's cramped bedroom and nosey flatmates. Still, he wasn't going to complain. He got to live in a spacious, new and expensive flat with the man he loved more than anything. He had a shower that actually worked, for God's sake. Life was good. Mostly good. Slightly good. Kent visibly deflated as he chucked his keys into bowl by the door and shrugged out of his suit jacket. How the Hell was he going to pull this off? Joe was going to take one look at him, laugh, and then retreat into the living room for the night with yet another file. He was already staying late at the office to 'finish things off.' Kent sat down on the grey corduroy sofa (he had managed to talk Joe out of buying yet another white one, but it had taken work), rested his head against the cushions, and closed his eyes.

 

Chandler arrived home roughly an hour later. Kent hadn't bothered to move or turn any lights on. He heard Joe calling his name and responded with a flat “Here.”

 

Chandler strode into the living room and turned on the lights. “Why are you sitting in the dark?” he asked. He was smiling, but he sounded pissed off all the same.

 

Kent didn't answer. His eyes roamed Chandler's body, vividly recalling the last time they had had sex. He remembered having his face pushed into the pillow, arse up in the air, legs apart, feeling as good as he thought it was possible to feel.

 

Something snapped. “Sit down,” he said. It wasn't a request.

 

Chandler raised an eyebrow. “I haven't taken my coat off yet.”

 

“Just...sit down.”

 

Joe sat, staring at Kent in confusion. Kent straddled him, sitting in his lap and kissing him hungrily on the mouth before Chandler could protest. He felt Chandler's hands stroking his shoulders and down his back, and he smiled into the kiss. Joe was responding well. He'd even deepened the kiss and slipped his tongue into Kent's mouth. Feeling that everything was finally going the way he wanted it to, Kent pushed his hips forward into Joe's and groaned at the contact.

 

Chandler pulled his mouth away firmly, an angry scowl creasing his forehead. “You're obsessed with sex.”

 

Kent sat back on Chandler's legs. He put his hands on Chandler's biceps and pushed him back against the cushions, before leaning forward again and kissing a trail up the DI's neck.

 

“If you don't want this,” kiss, “if you really, really don't want me to do this,” kiss, “I'll stop,” kiss, “tell me to stop and I'll stop.”

 

Chandler sighed and tilted his head up, giving Kent better access to his neck. Kent smiled smugly. It really shouldn't have been that easy. Not interested in sex my arse. He worked his way back to Joe's mouth and kissed him again passionately. Chandler sat forward so that he could take his coat and jacket off, but his mouth never left Kent's. This time when their hips bumped together, Kent could tell he wasn't the only one who was enjoying himself.

 

He unzipped Chandler's trousers and slid off his knees onto the floor, pulling the trousers and underwear down with him. He hovered over Chandler's erection, making his eyes look big and vulnerable as he looked up at the DI. Chandler groaned as Kent went to work. Kent didn't waste time teasing, deciding to get straight on with sucking Joe as far down his throat as he could (which was pretty far, actually). He swirled his tongue around the head, poking it into the little slit at the tip occasionally and making Joe whimper. His hands cupped and squeezed Joe's balls and rubbed the skin behind them firmly.

 

“Oh Christ...Em that's...Oh...Mmmmmclose. Really close,” Chandler was panting and lifting his hips up off the sofa.

 

Kent redoubled his efforts, bobbing his head quickly and sucking hard. Chandler cried out as he came, then sank bonelessly into the cushions.

 

Kent had swallowed a little, but he spat what was left into his palm. Chandler wrinkled his nose slightly. He had never been a fan of bodily fluids.

 

“Sir,” Kent's voice was dark, calm, controlled, “turn over.”

 

Chandler's eyes widened. “What?”

 

“On your knees. I want you bent over for me. Is that alright.” It wasn't a question.

 

Chandler stared at him, gobsmacked. Kent raised his eyebrows and nodded once. Chandler edged slowly off the sofa, making sure to avoid Kent's gaze as he turned himself around and leant forward, arms spread across the seat. Kent moved in behind him.

 

“What,” Chandler's voice was shaking, “what are you doing?”

 

Kent bent over the DI's broad back and murmured low in his ear, “Round two.”

 

He brought his hand to the small of Chandler's back (the part that wasn't still covered by his shirt) and tipped his palm to the side, Chandler's come spilling out and trickling down his own crack. Kent spread it around his opening, circling the tight entrance with his thumb.

 

Chandler moaned loudly. “Oh God that's filthy. That's fucking filthy...Em!” He gasped as Kent pushed two fingers in at once, sliding them easily in and out.

 

“Want me to stop?”

 

“No. Never. Jesus, what's got into you tonight?” Chandler was rocking his hips back and forth and was more than half hard again already.

 

Kent smirked. “Got tired of waiting,” he shrugged, even though Chandler couldn't see him.

 

Chandler huffed out a laugh that ended in a moan as Kent twisted his agile fingers and stroked him right where he wanted it.

 

“I'm...I'm tired of waiting now.”

 

“Are you really?” Kent grinned, smug and aroused and finally, finally getting his own way.

 

“Yes. God, yes. Fuck me!” Chandler sounded desperate.

 

Kent withdrew his fingers completely and hastily pushed his trousers and boxers down just enough for his cock to spring free. He spat onto his hand a couple of times and lubed himself up with it. He felt dirty and in control as he stoked himself. He felt incredible.

 

Joe was making desperate little whimpering noises as Kent lined himself up and pushed home. It wasn't easy going. Chandler was unbelievably tight and hot, and Kent was so wound up he thought he might come before he even got it all the way in. Chandler groaned at the intrusion and opened his legs wider. The tiny amount of give this created allowed Kent to slowly bury himself to the hilt. He stilled, panting and gasping.

 

“Fucking Hell.”

 

His thrusts started off slow and shallow, gradually lengthening until he was sliding nearly all the way out before pushing back in. Chandler scrabbled for purchase on the sofa and practically wailed. Kent knew he couldn't last long. He bent over, grabbed Joe's shoulder and started pulling him back onto his dick with every inward thrust.

 

“Oh God! Fuck! Fuck, so good. Jesus,” Kent shouted several times before slamming in as hard as he could and coming with a series of very undignified grunts.

 

Joe followed him a few moments later, his second orgasm a sluggish pulse that dripped down the side of the sofa.

 

Kent flopped against Chandler's back and moaned happily, making no move to pull out.

 

“Ugh,” Chandler said a few minutes later, “it's gone all over the new sofa.”

 

Kent laughed with the little energy he had left. “It'll wash out.”

 

“I'm glad you talked me out of white now.”

 

“Yeah. Come stains white like a bitch.”

 

“...It upsets me that you know that, Emerson.”

 

“Yeah, I know,” Kent kissed his shirt covered shoulder and hugged him tight.


End file.
